Andy Marso's family supported him throughout his hospitalization and the year of outpatient physical therapy that followed. Marso says he went through "all of the stages of grief" during his procedures.

Related Stories

On April 28, 2004, Andy Marso woke up with nothing else on his mind but finals, college graduation and his career as a journalist. He felt sick but chose to ignore an odd rash on his arms.

Little did he know that rash was the first visible symptom of bacterial meningitis, a disease that not only temporarily derailed his graduation and career but also permanently marked his body and shifted the way he thinks about life.

Luckily, a friend realized Marso’s flu-like symptoms and purplish rash needed attention. He insisted the young journalist go to The University of Kansas’ student health facilities. Marso was so weak that two friends wrapped his arms over their shoulders to practically carry him there.

It was an innocuous beginning to what would become an arduous journey that Marso detailed in a book, “Worth the Pain,” that will come out in November.

In the end, Marso lost four months of his life, spent in incredible pain in the hospital. He lost all of his fingers and toes except his right thumb. His body was scarred.

And yet, in that indefinable way that separates people and how they handle tragedy, 10 years later Marso looks not at what he lost but at what he gained.

Worth the pain

That day, the health facility doctor, Leah Luckeroth, recognized what was happening in Marso’s body and called an ambulance to transport him to the hospital.

Marso had no idea what he was facing. Sure, he’d heard of meningitis, but that was it.

“I had no concept that it could kill you or maim you or cause brain damage,” he said, adding that he had passed by a sheet about meningitis that hung in the scholarship dorm where he lived hundreds of times without reading it.

Marso spent only a short time at Lawrence Memorial Hospital before he was airlifted to The University of Kansas Hospital. He was already in septic shock as his organs were failing. Marso said he remembers being wheeled out the door and then he blacked out.

His parents, Harry and Virginia Marso, caught the first flight from their home state of Minnesota. By the time they got there, Marso was basically unconscious, only moaning.

“You just want to take his place in that bed,” Virginia Marso said in a telephone interview, talking about the horror of watching their son suffer.

Her husband still can’t read Marso’s manuscript because it’s so painful to relive, she said.

Doctors told the Marsos how sick their son was, pulling no punches when they said he may not live and could lose parts of all four limbs, Marso said. He learned the severity of his illness only after spending three weeks unconscious.

As he slowly became aware of his surroundings, Marso began to understand how his life changed.

“At first, it was a sense of joy and elation almost,” he recalled. “Everyone kept coming in and saying it’s a miracle you made it.”

But then Marso became aware something was wrong with his arms and legs. When the bandages were removed, he saw his limbs were almost black.

Reeling, Marso launched into the next stage of his treatment, which he calls “the nightmarish part.” The dead skin on his arms and legs had to be removed and, although given a strong pain killer, he spent hours in agony as nurses and technicians removed chunks of his skin with scalpels. It was a procedure similar to what is done to burn victims.

“It hurts like hell, and it’s also just as disturbing as hell,” he said. “Those treatments were pretty high-stakes things. I was fortunate. I was assigned a plastic surgeon, Dr. (Thomas) Lawrence, who was pretty set on trying to save as much as possible. At first, I was very much in denial, even though Dr. Lawrence and other doctors said you’re going to lose parts of all of your limbs.”

It was about six weeks later that Marso had his first amputations. The post-surgical pain was intense after his toes were removed.

“I could barely stand it on the best drugs money could buy,” he said.

But he held onto the fact that he could cover up the amputations with shoes and kept saying “the important thing is that I have my hands.”

And yet, significant portions of his hands had to be amputated, too. Marso remembered thinking. “I’m not going to accept that.”

“It was all of the stages of grief,” he said. He bargained with God, “Just let me keep one of my hands. I’ll spend the rest of my life feeding poor children.”

Virginia Marso said one of Marso’s brothers even went to the plastic surgeon and asked if he could donate fingers to transplant. The family waited, devastated at what was happening.

As Marso struggled through each stage of understanding fully what he lost to bacterial meningitis, it would have been difficult for him to imagine writing a book that he would title “Worth the Pain.”

He is a profoundly different person today than he was as a 22-year-old journalism major preparing to take the newspaper world by storm. The differences aren’t confined to his physical being.

“Before I got sick, I had a very comfortable life,” Marso said. “I didn’t have to work real hard for a lot of things.”

He calls it being “tested,” and he also knows that he discovered in himself what was required to pass the test. Determination. Humor. Persistence. Bravery, though he probably wouldn’t call it that.

His mother recalled the determination her son showed to return to his life after they took him back to Minnesota, where he continued physical and occupational therapy. After about three months, Marso announced he was returning to Kansas and his job on a newspaper.

“My husband and I looked at him and said, ‘Andrew, how are you going to do this? You can’t even button your own pants,’ ” she said. “He went off to his bedroom and came back 20 minutes later and said, ‘There, I buttoned my own pants. Now can I leave?’ ”

But for Marso, even honing character traits that would one day help him as a reporter and as a person didn’t compare to what he learned about blessings. Friends and family members stood beside him and never left.

Recently, an older man in a laundromat came up and asked him what kind of accident he was in, then asked if his friends don’t hang around him anymore.

“I laughed because it is so opposite of how my friends actually reacted,” Marso said.

His family relationships are closer and stronger than before he got sick.

“My dad is the classic strong, silent type,” Marso said. “He stayed overnight with me at the hospital. We had long, emotional conversations night after night.”

His mother and his grandmother, Dorothy Johnston, as well as his two brothers, Dan and Josh, supported him through it all. He recalled how Johnston insisted on rubbing his back with her arthritic hands.

There are no words for that kind of commitment. Yet Marso dug deep and spilled his story into a book that offers an intimate look at tragedy and triumph, at vulnerability and tears (he jokes that he still cries easily).

He is pulled to the quote by Eleanor Roosevelt that adorns Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s memorial in Washington, D.C.:

“Franklin’s illness gave him strength and courage he had not had before. He had to think out the fundamentals of living and learn the greatest of all lessons — infinite patience and never ending-persistence.”

ADVISORY: Users are solely responsible for opinions they post here and for following agreed-upon rules of
civility. Posts and comments do not reflect the views of this site.
Posts and comments are automatically checked for inappropriate
language, but readers might find some comments offensive or
inaccurate. If you believe a comment violates our rules, click the
"Flag as offensive" link below the comment.

I have said this before and I will say it again here: We are blessed beyond measure to have Andy Marso in our newsroom. He is a talented and hard-working journalist as well as being a friend to all of us. I am touched by reading this article by our friend and former colleague Morgan Chilson and wish Andy nothing but the best in his brave and heroic journey. He is truly an inspiration to all who know him.

I remember hearing about this when I was a student at KU. Wasn't Andy student body president at some point? His story was incredible back then, and the fact that he's come so far and overcome so much is just beyond inspiring!

About Andy, and that he had had bacterial meningitis as a young man, and had lost so much and had to deal with that much pain during it.

As a retired Paramedic, I know what bacterial meningitis can cause, and what it can do to a body, and unfortunately, what the ultimate worst case outcome can be, which thankfully Andy did not have to endure, because he is still here to tell his tale, and offer his exceptional journalism to us, which we are truly blessed for.

I cannot wait for his book to come out, and wish to know where I can obtain a copy. Also, I would like it if I could have Andy personally autograph it for me some time, if he can and is willing to do so!!! It would mean the world to me to show that someone has the strength to overcome something so horrible!!

I have MS, and it is taking a toll on me, where at the age of 36, I have had to retire completely for my jobs as a Paramedic and a Law Enforcement Officer. Seeing Andy being able to overcome this is a truly inspirational story.

I think the Kansan covered the story first and posted the link to Virginia's blog, maybe a CaringBridge page? It was amazing and heartbreaking all at the same time. Andy is truly exceptional and I know all KU journalism grads are proud to call him part of the family. It was a pleasure to see his byline pop up on CJOnline a while back.

I should have a proof in my hands soon and, as long as everything looks good with that, we should be printing books within the next couple weeks. Please email me, traumaemt, as I would be glad to sign a copy for you. My uncle had MS and was one of the people who inspired me while I was going through my hardest times. That story is part of the book.